


The Same Page

by undeniablyunsocial



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Barista Eddie Kaspbrak, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Being a Dumbass, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris is So Done, Tags Are Hard, this is cheesy but sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeniablyunsocial/pseuds/undeniablyunsocial
Summary: “Hello, and welcome to Cup and Crumb.  How may I help you?” The boy smiles, revealing slightly crooked teeth that are just so endearing.  His name-tag is slightly askew on his uniform polo shirt, but Richie now knows his name: Eddie.“I, uh—shit.”  Richie completely freezes.(or Richie falls for barista Eddie before he even talks to him)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 146





	The Same Page

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> My real notes are at the end, but I wanted to establish that I envision the characters are around their early twenties in this fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It starts out as a normal Saturday. Richie wakes up, gets dressed, and braves the chilly New York City air. Nothing quite like freezing temperatures to get a guy’s blood pumping in the morning. It’s not like Richie has anyone to impress, so he wears one of his many pairs of black skinny jeans, a Smiths sweatshirt, and his high-top converse, trudging through the slush. He wanders down to his favorite coffee shop, Cup and Crumb, which is conveniently located 23 blocks away. When he finally arrives at his destination and enters the establishment, shaking off the cold and stomping his feet to get rid of the melted snow, he looks up and stops in his tracks.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

There, standing behind the counter is the most beautiful boy Richie has ever seen. He has a fair complexion with a dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, short, auburn hair, and the backlighting of the coffee bar gives him a halo. He is so goddamn cute. Richie is smitten.

So, naturally, he makes a beeline for the bathroom and slams the door behind himself, leaning against the door, breathing heavily. It has just occurred to him, as he slides down the door into the fetal position, that he is basically useless until he has his morning cup of coffee. How the fuck is he supposed to seduce this gorgeous creature without the aid of an obscene amount of caffeine already flowing through his veins?

There is only one way that any of this can come to fruition; he decides he needs to call Stan.

With shaky hands, Richie pulls his dinky old phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and cues up his emergency contacts, his best friend obviously being the primary contact in that list. What the hell are his parents going to do from all the way in Maine? He selects Stan’s contact and waits for him to answer.

He does not answer.

So, naturally, Richie calls him 14 more times until he picks up.

“Stan! Emergency! Where the fuck were you 14 calls and 5 rings ago?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sleeping?” He is clearly not happy about being woken up. Granted, it is 7:08 on a Saturday morning. Richie can’t help his insomnia keeping him up all night, and, therefore needing coffee as soon as the shop opened. “This had better be important or I will lynch you.”

Richie launches into the tale of his morning, leading up to this exact moment.

“You mean to tell me that you are currently freaking out in a bathroom because you’ve fallen in love with this barista you haven’t even interacted with?”

“Possibly.”

Richie hears Stan sigh exasperatedly from the other end. “Richie, please just get your coffee and let yourself into my place. We can discuss our unattainable love interests together in solidarity. At a more reasonable hour when I have had my tea. Actually, would you bring me some?”

“Are you just inviting me over so that I’ll hang up and stop bothering you?”

“No comment. But, even so, we need to start watching that new TV series anyway. Who was in it again? Jack something? I don’t know. Just get in line, get your sustenance, and get over to my apartment. Please stop making a big deal every time you see a cute boy,” he says.

“But you don’t understand,” Richie whines. “He’s my type, and he has the cutest little nose. And he has freckles, Stan! Freckles!”

“I am hanging up now. Please grow a pair and just get your drink,” he says just before the line goes dead.

Richie groans and grapples to his feet reluctantly. He shuffles over to the sink and looks at himself in the mirror, gripping either side of the granite-lined sink. He stares into his own eyes as he says, “Alright, chief. We can do this. There’s no need to freak the fuck out about a boy. Also, you don’t even know what he’s like. He could be a sadistic bitch with a heart of lead! Then again, he could be an absolute sweetheart with the ability to talk to animals like a fucking princess. There is nothing proving otherwise at this point,” he reasons. “Wait, no, that’s not what we’re talking about here. On task, soldier!” He shakes his head vigorously and wonders where the hell he went wrong in life.

Giving himself one last threatening look in the mirror, he turns around and grips the handle of the bathroom door. He takes a deep breath before emerging from his newfound haven. He weaves His way back to the front of the store, getting into the very short line. This lack of people gives Richie a lack of preparation time, so he knows that he’s probably fucked. Oh well.

Before he knows it, he reaches the counter to place his order and the angel is looking him in the eyes. Shit.

“Hello, and welcome to Cup and Crumb. How may I help you?” He smiles, revealing slightly crooked teeth that are just so endearing. His name-tag is slightly askew on his uniform polo shirt, but Richie now knows his name: Eddie.

“I, uh—shit.” Richie completely freezes. Hey, dumbass, you’ve been coming to this coffee shop for months and have never ordered anything different. Why have you suddenly forgotten? 

Eddie just laughs a little bit and cocks his head, saying, “It’s alright, sweetie. Take your time.”

Richie thinks he might die from that pet name.

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “I’ll have a medium cup coffee with cream and two sugars and a pumpkin muffin. Oh, wait, can you warm the muffin? Yeah.”

Eddie grins and taps the screen in front of him, punching in the order. “That’ll be $9.07. What’s your name, dear?”

And now he’s called Richie dear. That is an excellent question, though. What is his name? “Uh-- Richie?”

He laughs, holding the cup in one hand and the marker in the other. “You sure?”

Richie nods, not trusting himself to speak anymore. His face must resemble one of those Japanese Daruma dolls at this point. He shuffles to the counter where his order will be deposited while Eddie expertly navigates the machinery. This piques his curiosity.

“How long have you been working here? I haven’t seen you around before,” Richie inquires, somehow managing to get the question out without sounding like an idiot.

Eddie glances up and smiles, grinding the beans he just procured. “This is my first week, but I’ve worked in a few other coffee shops before. I know my way around,” he winks, making Richie go weak at the knees.

Richie hums in response, pulling out his phone to mindlessly scroll through social media and make it look like he’s not just ogling at Eddie. Which he definitely is.

While he waits for the machine to finish with Richie’s drink, Eddie goes to take the next order. Richie leans up against the counter, continuing to scour his feed for something interesting. Finding nothing, he shoots a text to Stan, telling him to be proud of his strides forward in this situation. In about a minute, Stan responds with an unamused emoticon. Typical.

Richie sighs and runs his fingers through his curls before moving his arm down to rest on the counter. Just as his arm meets the countertop, Eddie is sliding a latte across the counter to give to another customer. The drink spills all over Richie’s arm, soaking through the thin material of his sweatshirt. He thinks to himself that he should’ve worn his real jacket this morning. Honestly, he should’ve seen this coming, but he didn’t even think about the impending doom of leaning over a serving counter. Now, his arm burns from having the hot beverage all over it.

“Oh God, I am so sorry. That’s totally on me. Wait here,” Eddie hurries out, scrambling for something to clean up the mess.

Richie laughs at his own expense, saying, “Really, it’s my fault. There’s no need to panic. I’m all good, I swear. Please let me clean it up.”

Eddie ignores his plea and wipes his arm with a dishtowel he acquired from behind the counter, muttering, “I am so stupid.”

“It’s okay. I promise. I’m a tough cookie. No latte can scare me away from such a cute face,” he jokes. Eddie freezes. And then it occurs to Richie what he just said aloud. What the hell, Richie.

“I mean--fuck.” Richie’s eloquence is genuinely astounding as he quickly backs away from the counter, away from Eddie. “I’m so sorry. That was way too much. If you give me my drink, I will leave and never come back. I’ll just find a new favorite coffee shop. It’s no big deal. And now I am rambling. Very cool. I will shut up now so you can work and not have to deal with me anymore.”

Eddie just stands still for a few moments, regarding Richie with an unreadable expression. He turns to where Richie’s cup is sitting on the counter, puts it in a cardboard sleeve, and hands it to him. Richie grabs it and turns to go, but Eddie stops him by saying, “Look at the cup.”

Giving him a quizzical look, Richie searches the cup for anything out of the ordinary. Just peeking out from under the sleeve are a few numbers. Upon sliding it down a bit further, it becomes clear that there is a phone number written on the cup with a little smiley face next to it. Realization dawns on him and he whispers a drawn-out, “Oh.”

Eddie gives him a shy smile and says, “Yeah.”

Richie’s face breaks into a grin as he says, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Eddie looks at Richie with a strange glint in his eye. “You weren’t exactly subtle when you first walked in and then immediately retreated into the bathroom. And you also aren’t really quiet when talking on the phone.” Richie’s eyes widen in horror. Eddie laughs, “Don’t worry. I felt the same way when I saw you come in. Shoot me a text later?”

Richie smiles. “Oh definitely.”

Richie throws a wave over his shoulder before exiting the shop, grinning like a madman. Stan is going to lose his fucking mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So, this is my first published work! Funny enough, I actually wrote this for my creative writing class with different characters, but I had reddie and Stan in mind the whole time I was writing this. I figured I would change some things around and actually make it about the boys!
> 
> If this gets positive feedback, I might add more to it and make it a chaptered fic.
> 
> Please leave kudos and give me feedback in the comments! I would really appreciate any and all criticism. :)


End file.
